


Spice

by alilactree



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alilactree/pseuds/alilactree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is assigned to write a sex column designed to help readers with their vanilla sex lives and isn’t happy about it. Until he and Blaine discover that maybe a little spice isn’t so bad after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Ask Aphrodite:_

_Dear Aphrodite, I’ve been sexually active for ten years and have never had an orgasm. I want to, and I do enjoy sex, but I just can’t seem to let go and get there. Is there something wrong with me?_

_~Unsatisfied_

The lights in the room are dimmed, soft jazz humming from the vintage record player, candles flickering from the top of the dresser and bookshelf; lavender and rose and sage, and Kurt realizes he is starting to have a somewhat concerning physical reaction to floral scents. 

Dim lights and jazz and flowery candles mean sex. Sex with Blaine, who is waiting patiently on the bed, stripped to his briefs, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head.

Kurt sighs, scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m almost done I swear.”

“It’s okay. Though I might just take matters into my own hands soon.” Blaine slips one palm down his torso, fingertips slipping past the waistband.

“You wouldn’t. It’s blowjob Tuesday, your favorite.”

Kurt turns back to the obnoxiously bright screen of his laptop, reads the same question he’d been over dozens of times now and still has no clue how to answer. He swirls a finger over the trackpad, watches the little arrow as it dances across the page to the slow, sinuous melody.

“What are you working on anyway? I thought things would calm down after the Fashion Week aftermath was done.” Blaine sits up and scoots over to the edge of the bed.

“It did. But then Kate left on maternity leave and Isabelle was stuck with divvying up all of her columns and regular features. I swear that woman doesn’t sleep, and I have no idea how she had to time to get knocked up with everything that she had on her plate.” Kurt glares at his laptop again, then opens the internet tab. Orgasm is such a strange word. He should look up the etymology. For…research. 

“Oh, I love that column! Is that what you’re stuck on?” Blaine’s head pops up to read over his shoulder, and Kurt resists the irrational instinct to slam the computer closed. 

“Yes, and I somehow got assigned her side column for Allure. Which is sex advice. For women. At a women’s magazine. I think it’s safe to say I’m stuck, yes.”

“You’re really good at sex though, so that helps.” Blaine nuzzles his face against Kurt’s, then nibbles at his ear.

“It doesn’t, actually.” Kurt replies, reaching up to pat his cheek. “But thank you.”

“Hmm, you should take a break then. Let me clear your mind.” Blaine mouths behind the lobe, sucking a spot at the hinge of his jaw that never fails to get Kurt going. A simmering heat starts to build low, his mind going wonderfully hazy as Blaine moves to kiss down his neck. Maybe he should take a break-

“No orgasm in ten years, ouch. I think I’d explode.” Blaine’s teeth sink into the curve of neck and shoulder.

“Maybe I should just write that. Dear reader, that sucks. Try not to spontaneously combust from sexual frustration.” 

Blaine snorts against his shoulder, then straightens up. “Well, sort of.” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “I mean, there’s no reason she can’t…explore what makes her feel good. And yeah, get some professional advice if she needs to. But no one should feel ashamed of a little self-love to find out what turns them on, right?”

With that he hooks his thumbs in his briefs, tugging them off, then throws them over his shoulder with a flourish and does a little shimmy as he turns away. Kurt laughs and rolls his eyes, but has to bite his lip to focus on finishing the advice column.

_Dearest Unsatisfied, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV, but I do think it would be wise to go see one and get anything physical ruled out first. But aside from that sex is inherently about making yourself vulnerable to another person. You will never be more bared- mentally and physically- as you are during intimate moments. I would encourage you to spend some time focusing on what makes you feel good, put any judgements or expectations or shame aside. Try a vibrator, fantasize, show your partner what makes you tick. And the value of a good lubricant cannot be overstated._

_~Aphrodite_

He attaches it to an email and sends it off to Isabelle before he has a chance to overanalyze and second-guess himself, spinning his chair around and pouncing on Blaine with a smirking grin. He had just gotten himself settled between Blaine’s spread thighs when his phone chirps from the bedside table with a new text.

Blaine groans, throws an arm over his face with a muffled, “Just get it, I know you won’t be able to concentrate if you don’t.”

Kurt licks up the underside of Blaine’s cock once before stretching up to retrieve his phone and checking the text, then decides to worry about what Isabelle meant later, and sets back to the task at hand. Well. Mouth, in this case.

**From Isabelle: Perfect! I knew you’d be good at that! Wait until you see what fun the next assignment is. You and that handsome husband of yours will really enjoy it ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

_There is no shortage of articles with tips on how to bring some excitement to the bedroom, from the vague: “Spend time together!” to the woefully misguided: “Nibble on his scrotum!” (Side note: Please don’t do that.) But how many offer guidance beyond a handful of tips and an alarming level of enthusiasm whilst bandying about words like “scrotum”? Well, dear readers, I am here to offer you my experience, expertise, and the weekly sacrifice of my dignity for your benefit. Up first: a little food, a lot fun and one willing partner._

“No.”

“Blaine, I’m not exactly crazy about it either, but it would really help Isabelle out and right now things are slow for me, and you’re between shows-”

“I’m auditioning-”

“-and the money wouldn’t hurt, and maybe it will be a tiny, little bit enjoyable?” Kurt props his chin on his hand, widens his eyes and pouts his lips.

“Stop that, you know I can’t-” Blaine takes a bite of food, deliberately not looking Kurt’s way. “It’s not that I mind trying new things, you know I don’t. I just don’t need the world to know about it.”

Kurt drops the pout, truthfully he doesn’t really either, but a few months of a regular feature was exciting and could potentially lead to him getting more of them, and they really could use the money.

“I know. But it’s not the whole world.” Kurt spears an oyster then reaches across the table to slip it slowly between Blaine’s (skeptical, downturned but parted) lips. “Just those with internet access.” Blaine chews, swallows, and Kurt follows the shifting lines of his throat. “I’m sure there are some remote villages deep within an African jungle…” Blaine rolls his eyes, accepts another bite of oyster, this time with a hint of a smile. “I promise I won’t go into any nitty gritty details. No play-by-plays, no exhaustive treatises about your skills in bed-”

“Hey now, I never said that.” Blaine sips his wine, dark eyes watching Kurt over the rim. Kurt plucks a strawberry from the bowl in the middle of the table, dips it in the chocolate ganache and bites into it gently, gaze never leaving Blaine’s. “You are very hard to resist,” he says, and Kurt doesn’t miss the way his voice is getting lower, just a little gravelly.

“That’s intentional,” Kurt replies with a wink. 

Blaine leans back in his chair and sighs, “Okay what’s first on the list, then?”

Kurt focuses very hard on getting the last bits of the fruit from around the green stem and tries to answer in an offhand sort of way, “Food.”

One of the reasons Kurt loves Blaine, married Blaine, likes Blaine, is that Blaine gets him. And Blaine is smart. And often willing to call Kurt out, though Kurt would never readily admit to that part. So he knows that Blaine is assessing the spread on the table: oysters, asparagus, red wine; strawberries with a of bowl dark chocolate ganache and one with fresh whipped cream, and is now probably staring at Kurt with narrowed eyes and a pressed-thin mouth.

“You’ve been trying to stealthily seduce me all evening with your sexy foods, Kurt. I see your little game.”

Kurt sips his wine, runs his tongue along his lip to catch a stray drop. “So…did it work?”

“Yes, dammit.” 

Kurt tries not to grin in triumph too much, picks up the bowl of chocolate sauce and nods toward the bedroom down the hall, “Phase two?

“Well that explains the drop cloth on the bed, anyway,” Blaine says, lighting candles as Kurt sets the bowl down on the nightstand, then rubs his hands together briskly.

“Those are 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, Blaine,” Kurt replies, waving off Blaine’s like they haven’t seen worse. He pulls off of his sweater, starts working on the buttons of his shirt. Blaine catches the needle of the record player on a Billie Holiday album and it skips and pops as Kurt says, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just do this before I lose my nerve.” He wriggles his shoulders, catches the shirt as it slips down his arms and drapes it over the chair in the corner. “Now strip.”

“So romantic,” Blaine mumbles, but unbuttons and removes his cardigan anyway.

“Sorry,” Kurt hops around on one foot, kicking off his jeans- peeling skinny jeans off is never graceful. “I’m sorry. Sweetheart, please remove your clothing so i can sensually slather chocolate all over your naked body.”

“So much better,” Blaine laughs, pushing the last of his clothing off and settling down on the bed, arms and legs pressed tightly to his body, jaw set.

Kurt shuffles across the bed, swings one leg over his hips and leans down to press a soft kiss to Blaine’s waiting lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Blaine lifts one hand to tangle in the back of Kurt’s hair and brings him down for a longer kiss.

“Mmm. Thank you for doing this.” Kurt smiles against his lips, flutters his eyes closed. He’s a little emotional that Blaine agreed to do this, that Blaine would do just about anything for him. He tries to not take it for granted.

Blaine just grins, tipping his head back and flinging his arms wide. “My body is your canvas.”

The ganache has cooled considerably, which seems less than ideal, but Kurt really has no plan of action at this point anyway. He swirls a finger through it, tilts his head and allows his eyes to roam Blaine’s skin. The pull of it over his neck and stretched taut on the sharp edge of his jaw. Down to the curve of bone, the hollow divot of his throat. Broad, flat planes on his chest, then dusky nipples, a smattering of coarse hair. He looks up to meet Blaine’s eyes; patient and waiting. Kurt’s cock gives a twitch where it’s resting on Blaine’s belly, and beneath him Kurt can feel Blaine’s stirring and swelling.

“Okay,” Kurt says, mostly to himself. He pulls the finger out, drips of dark chocolate landing on Blaine’s ribs, and he hisses and jolts. 

“Cold.”

“I know, sorry.” Kurt smears it across one nipple, crosses Blaine’s chest with a trail of sticky sweetness, covers the other. He considers the remnants still on his hand, shrugs and licks it, the sauce dark and rich and decadent; sucks his finger into his mouth, then pulls it out with a pop. Blaine swallows and bites down on his bottom lip, his cock now pressing more insistent along Kurt’s ass. Emboldened, Kurt tips forward, ducks his head and presses his tongue flat onto Blaine’s chest, licking up the chocolate with long strokes. 

He sits back again to swallow the thick sweet-bitter mouthful, Blaine’s chest marred with chocolate and saliva in swirls and streaks and matted into his chest hair. It’s messy and sticky and too sweet; Kurt considers dashing off the kitchen for a glass of milk to wash it down. But he swallows again, scoots down Blaine’s body and soldiers on instead.

Kurt reaches to dip two fingers in the bowl, the chocolate oozing down his wrist and arm and onto the paint-stained cloth covering the bed. He coats the underside of Blaine’s cock from the base to just under the head, then across the tip and down the other side. He grips Blaine’s thighs without thinking, a line chocolate covering the tender skin of the inside. Blaine starts to pant as Kurt pushes his leg wide, sucks a path along the skin there. 

Tiny licks up the veiny shaft of Blaine’s cock; sweet and hot and hard, then thick on his tongue and down his throat when he closes his mouth around it. He pulls off to swallow the chocolate down, then dips back to lick at the salty pre-come beading in the slit, trying to chase away the choking sweetness. 

It’s too much.

“You okay baby?” Blaine is flushed and straining, lifts up onto his elbows in concern.

Kurt swallows and swallows, nods and grits out, “Water?”

Blaine slips away and Kurt sits back, tries to not be too disappointed in himself. Maybe he should have gone for the whipped cream. Blaine returns, glass in hand and Kurt presses a grin against the glass after taking a long drink. 

“You are a mess.” Chocolate sauce across his chest and groin and stomach and still hard cock, the underside of one arm; obscenely delectable. “Did you…” Kurt touches his fingertips to Blaine’s abdomen, spreads some of it to his hip. “Add some?”

Blaine lifts a shoulder, a little sheepish. “I was into it.”

It takes some effort to get Blaine out of it, slumped against the shower wall with heavy-lidded eyes while Kurt scrubs him with a loofah. “Enjoying yourself?” Kurt lathers the coarse hair at his chest, the smattering on his stomach, the thatch of it around his cock. He’s been hard the whole time and Kurt has barely touched him there, but when he does Blaine groans so loudly it echoes off the walls.

Kurt is beginning to suspect it isn’t the food Blaine likes, not exactly.

He drops the loofah and curls his hand around Blaine’s cock, soap running off his body and down the drain in a river of suds and chocolate syrup, steps in close to murmur, “You like when I take care of you.”

It’s not a question, because it is something he already knew. But this is different, this is Blaine laying himself open, bare and trusting Kurt implicitly and it thrills hot up his spine. He drops down, pins Blaine’s hips against the cool tile and takes him into his mouth again, tasting only skin and salt and Blaine this time.

Blaine yelps, hands scrabbling against the slippery tile, held captive by Kurt’s hands and Kurt’s mouth; he licks and sucks and bobs, then breathes deeply through his nose and takes Blaine down as deep as he can go.

“Ah, Kurt- fuck,” He hears Blaine’s head thunk against the tile, and the first taste of him coming is a soothing contrast to the overwhelming sweetness of the chocolate. Kurt pulls up to the tip, wraps his lips tight and swallows it all down until Blaine is spent, slipping down until he lands in a heap on the shower floor.

Kurt moves to brace himself on the tile over Blaine’s head; lolled forward to watch the quick movement of his hand on Kurt’s cock. He works Kurt over expertly, and as it turns out, Kurt rather likes taking care of Blaine, too. He’s tipping over the edge in no time, hips thrusting forward as he moans, stripes of come painting Blaine’s chest where the chocolate had before. 

They catch their breath and come down, folded together side by side, and Blaine drops his wet head to Kurt’s shoulder, says over the sound of the spray of the shower, “Success?”

_Food Play. Good idea or bad idea: This one is a toss up. One of us enjoyed it, one of us found it sticky and messy and not terribly appetizing. It’s worth experimenting with different foods to see what works; whipped cream seemed to go over better than chocolate ( yet still too sweet and messy) strawberries were best overall (sticky, but less so.) In the end I declare it a good idea, but proceed with caution and mind the sheets. I will say though that I personally preferred the clean-up afterwards. But maybe my husband is just particularly delicious._


	3. Chapter 3

_Tip: Jump start your day with surprise morning sex!_

He tasks Blaine with this one, now that he seems to be fully on board with the column. It certainly isn’t something totally new for them, though most mornings have Kurt either rushing out the door or hunkered down at his desk with his teeth unbrushed and hair still mashed flat on one side. If Blaine has rehearsals he’ll stumble around the apartment getting ready for the day on blank-stared automatic until the caffeine kicks in, and if he’s been doing shows he tends to be dead to the world until noon, insisting on standing at the stage door the previous night until he’s greeted every last person waiting in line.

But sometimes there are quiet Sunday mornings with tiny cups of espresso and pastries from the French bistro on the corner, sprawled over and under each other with lazy kisses and lazier handjobs, or just rubbing off like teenagers. Anything more than that requires the kind of time and energy they just don’t possess early in the mornings.

But Kurt is now facing a looming deadline with no surprise morning sex to speak of; the day before he had even snapped, “Are you going to jump me or what?” As he flipped on the coffee machine and glared at the too slow dribble of shade grown fair trade organic Honduras blend.

Blaine scratched his belly, yawned and blinked and replied, “Hnph?” And Kurt realized he may very well be writing an installment on the many benefits of masturbation instead.

It’s Sunday morning and he wakes up to heavy and warm and wet. He grunts and fights off the tugging undertow of sleep, shifts a little and pets at the top of Blaine’s fluffy curls resting on his chest.

“That’s my armpit, love.”

Blaine lifts his head, squints one eye open and says, “Oh. Thought you’d stopped waxing.” 

Kurt smiles at the ceiling, wiggles out from under him and steps onto the cool wood floor. 

“I’ll get you some coffee and we’ll try again, hmm?” He stretches his arms high above his head, back cracking, as Blaine snuffles back down under the covers on his stomach. Kurt heads to the kitchen, patting Blaine’s ass as he goes just because he can, watches the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he drifts back to sleep.

When he returns with two steaming mugs in his hands (his second, Blaine’s first) he intends to wake Blaine up, setting the mugs down and whisking the blankets and sheet off the lump that is Blaine’s sleeping form, but it turns out that Blaine’s surprise also involved him sleeping totally nude. Kurt decides a change of plans is now in order.

He takes a moment to admire the view, overly bright morning sun glowing on Blaine’s skin. He has one arm tucked under his pillow, one flung out wide; one leg stretched long, one bent up at the knee. Kurt climbs on the bed behind him and settles in the empty space there, rests one hand softly on the round slope of Blaine’s ass and lets his thumb slip in, just a bit. Blaine sniffs and his face rumples, but he doesn’t wake. 

Kurt presses in more, down to where Blaine is hot and clenching at the pad of his thumb, and he circles around it, tests the give, wonders how far he can take this before Blaine wakes up. He slides his hand over to palm the swell, his other hand joining to squeeze and push, then pull. Kurt hunches over, ducks down low to place a kiss on one indented dimple, then the other, tongue darting out to lick long down the seam, and Blaine’s hips twitch back and he trembles a breathy whine.

“So you are awake.” 

Blaine’s mouth lifts, a hint of a smirking grin, says in a mumble to his pillow, “Nuh-uh.”

“Oh, well in that case, I’ll just go try out that spring vegetable and goat cheese tart I’ve been meaning to make.”

Blaine whines again, petulant and low this time and hooks his bent leg under Kurt’s knees, making him fall forward, hands splayed on Blaine’s shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. Blaine groans and writhes underneath him.

“Yeah?” Kurt asks, leans down to kiss the curve of shifting muscles between the sharper edges of his shoulder blades. “Want me to take care of you again?”

Blaine says something that may have been please, it’s hard to tell, but Kurt knows anyway. Knows by the hitch of his breathing, the tremble of his eyelashes, the quiver of his parted lips. It’s been a very long time that Blaine has had to say I want you so bad, for Kurt to get the hint. Blaine wants him. He knows, now.

Kurt discards his pajamas, locates the lube, then tucks one leg under and sits on the edge of the bed, stroking Blaine’s hair to calm him back to sleepy and pliant. “Just relax, okay? I’ve got you.”

He waits until Blaine’s muscles give and release, until he sighs and breathes deeply once more, and Kurt threads his fingers into the mass of curls and admires Blaine’s features. He never can decide if Blaine is more beautiful sleep softened and peaceful, or animated and overflowing with life.

Kurt stands slowly and moves back to kneel between the spread of Blaine’s legs, slicks his fingers then grits his teeth at the jarring squelching sound of the container of lube. But Blaine’s eyes stay closed, mouth lax and parted, body loose.

He sucks in a long breath at the first finger in, but Kurt presses and stretches slow, slow. Much slower than the usual rush to open him up so Kurt can sink inside already, impatient and aching for him. But today he takes his time, ignores the throb of his cock, gentles Blaine’s restless hips, twitching like a unbroken stallion. Waits.

When Blaine goes slack once more, his twisted grip on the sheet unclenching, yielding and ready around Kurt’s fingers; Kurt gets a solid grip on Blaine’s hips with one hand and tilts them up, coats his cock then lines up with Blaine’s hole and pushes in.

He spreads his body wide over Blaine’s; chest to back, thigh to thigh, fingers intertwined and face buried in Blaine’s neck. He bottoms out, breathes Blaine in, waits.

The slightest cant of his hips and Blaine’s fingers grip tighter around his, ass shoving back harder onto Kurt’s cock and Kurt groans and nips at the hinge of his jaw, then he commands, “relax.” 

Blaine sinks boneless to the bed once more.

Kurt closes his eyes and focuses on Blaine, all hard bone and taut muscle and slick skin, the tight grip as Kurt thrusts into him in long strokes, pulling out to the tip and then inching back in. He feels wanton and wicked; wants to be inside Blaine forever, wants to do nothing but fuck him for the rest of the morning, the entirety of this lazy Sunday.

But his hips pick up speed, a runaway train, and he tumbles helplessly over the edge in free-fall floating pleasure, and when he sighs out his release Blaine’s eyes finally snap open, desperate and dark, begging, “Kurt.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, gives Blaine room to work himself over Kurt’s gradually softening cock, tipping them to the side just enough for Kurt to circle tight around Blaine’s cock; passing slick through his fingers with the snap of Blaine’s hips, until he finally goes rigid, coming with a soft cry and a bowed back.

“Surprise,” Blaine says weakly, rolls back onto his belly as Kurt flops onto his back, and smiles up at Kurt.

“I feel like you planned that.” 

“What? No way. I was totally gonna rock your world.” He reaches over and clumsily bats at Kurt’s face. Kurt hums, unamused, and Blaine grins. “Now make me tarts.”

Kurt scoffs and smacks Blaine’s ass, hard. “Lazy.”

“Ooh.” Blaine wriggles happily against the bed. “Or more of that.”

“Go pick up some of that chocolate brioche and we’ll see.” 

Blaine sighs and groans and hauls himself out of bed dramatically, stops to gulp a mouthful of coffee and pulls a face; it has to be lukewarm at best by now, before grabbing a towel out of the closet and heading to the shower. 

“By the way, you are on the hook for next time so you better make it good!” Kurt calls, but the only answer is the squeak of the faucets turning on. 

Kurt curls on his side, pulls the blankets back up and closes his eyes. Maybe he’ll just sleep a bit until Blaine gets back. He’s had an exhausting morning, after all.

_Good idea or bad idea? Well to start, I feel that this would probably work best with a partner who doesn’t most closely resemble a reanimated corpse in the mornings, but wakes up spry and ready to greet the day. (See what I did there?) Morning quickies are fun and not a bad way to start the day, so long as you can deal with the morning breath. But if you can make the time, there is fun to be had with long, lazy mornings and long, lazy sex. Go ahead, give yourself permission to indulge and luxuriate in each other, then get some rest and sustenance and go for round two if you dare. We sure did._


	4. Chapter 4

_Tip: Try handcuffs or other restraints to tease him into a frenzy._

The curtains are drawn tight against the hum of activity outside, Manhattan a constantly busy, buzzing hive. Kurt has on loose sweats with socked feet propped up on the table, aimlessly browsing the internet on his tablet for what started as French recipes to try out and has somehow led down the virtual rabbit hole to more than he ever needed to know about the long history of escargot, all the way back to the Roman Empire. 

Blaine returns from rummaging around in their bedroom with a stack of bills and the laptop, plopping down next to him on the couch and folding his legs, and Kurt is sure they had something more exciting planned for a Friday night; he never has quite gotten accustomed to the amount of tedium involved in being a self-sufficient adult. 

“Anyone doing open mic night?” He exits out of Wikipedia, squeezes Blaine’s knee.

“Probably.” Blaine presses his lips together and frowns at the phone bill in his hand. “Why are there two convenience charges? What the hell does that even mean?”

“We haven’t done a duet in while.” Kurt says, doesn’t particularly want to discuss bills right now or ever, really, and turns on the couch to face Blaine, resting his head on the cushions and rubbing his thumb along the outer seam of Blaine’s soft cotton pants.

“We haven’t, you’re right.” Blaine taps at the keyboard, sends something off, then gives Kurt a soft smile. “I got a callback.”

“Blaine, that’s great! The lead?” Blaine moves the laptop to the coffee table and twists around on the couch. 

“No, but a pretty big speaking role. A couple songs.” He covers Kurt’s hand with his own and leans his head over. “Did you want to go out?”

Kurt scoots closer and replies, “Eh,” and Blaine starts a slow circling of Kurt’s bicep under the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Oh, by the way,” Kurt says and shivers a bit, goosebumps raising under the trail of Blaine’s fingers. “My last article was one of the top read pieces last month. Our kinky sex life is a hit.”

Blaine drops his head to Kurt’s shoulder, breath puffing warm against his neck. “Mmm, we are pretty wild and crazy.”

Kurt tips his chin up, giving Blaine more space to mouth gently up and down the line of his throat, his pulse fluttering against Blaine’s lips. Okay, maybe they aren’t taking the city by storm, and maybe he and Blaine don’t have a very crazy or kinky sex life. He’s never really minded, not until recently. Not until they were forced out of their comfort zones a bit, and Kurt realized: they could. They’re both willing and able and they know each other’s bodies, what works and what doesn’t. They could be kinky. If they wanted.

“Crap,” Kurt smacks at Blaine’s shoulder and his head pops up, mouth red and wet, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you send the flowers for Carole’s birthday?”

“Yes.”

“And did you remember-”

“No baby’s breath or carnations because they’re gauche, yes, Kurt.”

“Oh.” Kurt smooths his hand over Blaine’s chest, tries to smile but probably grimaces. He may be having some trouble focusing tonight.

Blaine purses his lips, wobbles his head as he seems to be considering a thought, then grabs Kurt’s hand and yanks him up from the couch. “I got us something.”

“Do tell,” Kurt says, allowing Blaine to pull him into the room and steer him to the bed.

“Why don’t I just…show you.”

He pulls open a desk drawer, digging past bills and receipts, bank statements and user manuals, and Kurt’s mind starts to drift to new organizational systems. He doesn’t care how Blaine spins it, that drawer just does not stay orderly. He forces himself back to awareness with a a soft oh as Blaine approaches the bed cautiously, and in his hands are two thick black leather cuffs with attached restraints dangling down loosely.

“You want-” Kurt swallows, remembering the way Blaine blissfully relaxed under Kurt’s sure hands, surrendering to his body and will. He closes his eyes and feels a flicker of heat start to course under his skin. “You want to be restrained?”

“Actually,” Blaine slots his knee between Kurt’s, picks up his hand so the leather strap slips along Kurt’s forearm, and places a kiss on the inside of Kurt’s wrist. “I was hoping you did.”

Kurt turns his hand over in Blaine’s grip, gets a tight hold on the cuff. He’s always appreciated the aesthetics of bondage wear, and these are no exception. The leather is obviously a very good quality, supple and smooth, the metal ring through the center a solid glinting silver. With the tethers removed it’s easily something he would wear as part of an everyday ensemble. Blaine chose well.

“I can, if you’d rather. Or- or whatever, we can do something else. I just thought maybe if we upped the ante a bit, see how your readers respond. It’s fine. I can just blow you? Would you rather just, not? Whatever you’re comfortable with is what I’m-”

“Blaine.”

“Stop rambling, right.” 

Kurt loops a tether around Blaine’s wrist, then uses it to pull Blaine down, craning up to kiss him, hard and close-mouthed. “Yes.”

He gives a squeak of surprise as Blaine clamors onto his lap, grabbing his face in both hands and capturing Kurt’s mouth in a long, deep kiss, tongue dipping in, then sucking at Kurt’s bottom lip. He braces his hands on Blaine’s hips to stead himself, is surprised again to feel Blaine already half hard pushing against his stomach. This is something Blaine’s thought about, then. 

“Okay, clothes off.” Kurt taps at his side, pushing up his shirt and avoiding the chase of Blaine’s mouth, huffing a laugh at his enthusiasm.

Blaine ducks his head, licks at his lips. “You first.”

Kurt undresses quickly, years together now and he will never get used to that stark hunger in Blaine’s eyes; pupils dilated black. He sits back on the bed, fidgets as he waits for Blaine to follow suit, feels his own want pulsing like a heartbeat through his body. 

But Blaine stays clothed and instead picks up the restraints, unhooking the tethers and slipping one cuff, then the other, gently over Kurt’s wrists. 

“Do they go with my outfit?” Kurt tries to joke, rubbing his hands down his naked thighs a little self-consciously. 

“You look amazing,” Blaine replies, without a hint of teasing or lightness. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Kurt rises to his knees, shuffles forward then leans with his back against the cool wood, Blaine’s gaze on him the entire time like a living thing, like Kurt can feel it trailing whisper-soft all over his skin. 

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable,” Blaine says, looping the tether around a slat, then bringing Kurt’s hand up and securing it high and to the side of his head. “Or if you want to stop.” He fixes the other in place, pauses to kiss the center of Kurt’s captive palm.

Kurt wiggles his back a bit, gets reasonably comfortable. It’s- fine. A little strange. He tugs at the restraints, tests the strength. He doesn’t care for the loose feeling of his hands dangling in the air, so he wraps the straps around them and pulls tight.

Blaine’s eyes widen at the bulge of Kurt’s biceps at the action, and he presses his palm to the swell of his groin.

Kurt swallows. “Good?”

“Kurt, oh my god.”

Blaine kneels at the end of the bed, shoves his sweatpants and underwear down just enough that his cock emerges, hard and curving up to his belly. He grips it, twists his wrist once, grunts. Kurt’s own cock fills and hardens at the visual. 

“Blaine, come here.” Kurt yanks hard on the restraints, strains forward as far he can, then falls back with a gust of air. Blaine shakes his head and strokes his cock, eyes traveling up and down and over, all over; Blaine looks like he could devour him and Kurt whimpers in frustration. “Baby, please.”

“So hot,” Blaine’s hips jolt forward, cock pushing through his fist. 

Kurt tries to nudge him forward with his feet, digs his toes into Blaine’s calf, he just needs to touch him, needs to be touched, needs. But Blaine growls, low and rough, standing up and off the bed, never stopping the movement of his hand.

Kurt thumps his head back, pulls on the restraints again, and decides to try a different tactic. “You should ride me.” He spreads his legs a bit, hard cock bobbing, and as a drip of moisture stretches from the tip down to his abdomen, Blaine watches with hooded eyes. He kicks his pants off and away and returns to the bed and Kurt purrs, “Yeah, come on.” 

Blaine moves between Kurt’s legs, bumping one knee out farther with his free hand, strokes slow and steady with the other, but makes no movement to get lube or straddle Kurt’s hips, or touch him anywhere else. “Amazing,” he mutters, hand speeding up.

Kurt’s back presses hard into the headboard as he thrusts into the air, wants to clamp Blaine between his legs but doesn’t want to risk him leaving again. He can feel the heat from Blaine’s body, the rapid motion of his hand, and finally Blaine touches him, gripping Kurt’s knee as he groans and comes on Kurt’s thigh and hip, a line splashing hot across Kurt’s aching cock. Kurt’s hips thrash and he whimpers, then Blaine looks up, breathing hard and with an impish grin.

“I like you like this.”

“Clearly,” Kurt bites out, presses his knees to Blaine’s sides and tries to tug him forward. But Blaine pushes Kurt’s legs open again, tuts and brings his hand up to his mouth, laps up the come still sticking to his fingers and Kurt moans and has to squeeze his eyes closed.

He feels Blaine dip forward; he kisses Kurt and slips the taste of him onto Kurt’s tongue, says against his lips, “What do you want?”

“Anything. I’m close, please.”

Blaine pulls away with a smack of their lips, lays his palms flat against the spread of Kurt’s thighs and drops down to take Kurt into his mouth and down his throat.

A litany of swears and praise tumble out, and Kurt has to turn his head and bite into the leather strap, teeth sinking into the bitter taste of it to keep from bucking up farther, chasing the tight heat of Blaine’s mouth.

When Blaine slips a hand down to rub against Kurt’s hole, he’s gone; pulling so hard on the restraints as he comes that his wrist burns and the headboard creaks and groans.

His whole body tingling and spent, he hazily registers Blaine taking off the cuffs and dotting kisses along his wrists, then up his arm and shoulder, then nuzzles his cheek against Kurt’s as they slump down into the pillows. 

“Love you,” Kurt says, pleased he remembers how to form words again. 

“Oh good, I thought I broke you.” Blaine pulls him into his arms, Kurt happily snugging himself along Blaine’s side. “That wasn’t really what I planned on.”

“No? So I won’t be writing the article on how to tease your lover to the point of sexual combustion?” Kurt drops his head to Blaine’s chest, presses his nose to the soft fabric of his t-shirt, rucked up on one side and resting at the top of his bare hip on the other.

“You did not combust.”

“Didn’t I?”

Blaine laughs and rubs his hand wide on Kurt’s back and kisses his temple, “Fair enough.”

_Good idea or bad idea: With so many articles focusing heavily on “how to please your man” I want to take a moment and emphasize how important your own pleasure is. Because the truth is your partner will be turned on by what turns *you* on. (And if they aren’t, may I suggest throwing them out of your bed and quickly.) There is a give and take in sex, a duality that is all too often forgotten about. And now that we’ve gotten my deep thoughts out of the way: good idea. Buy good quality restraints, or even a silk tie or scarf (last season’s, please, I beg of you.) Go over some ground rules, be aware of each other’s limits, then take turns being restrained. You may be surprised by who gets turned on the most._


	5. Chapter 5

_Tip: Move sex out of the bedroom into other parts of the house, or even beyond!_

New York in the summertime is always a bit of an unpleasant surprise. Sharp-bitter tang to the air, thick with humidity that curls the hair at Blaine’s temples and forces Kurt to leave top buttons undone and shirt-sleeves rolled up. 

And the tourists, of course. Visitors traveling in groups, goggle eyed and shuffling too slowly, taking in too much in to be locals. Kurt cups Blaine’s elbow, dodges a group of them in matching red t-shirts speaking a language Kurt can’t quite place.

“I hate this,” he mutters, leaning close to Blaine’s side, the thick heat oppressive all around them.

“Aw, I think it’s cute.” 

Kurt tucks his hand in to wrap around the crook of Blaine’s arm. Blaine never did give himself over completely to hard-edged city life, stubbornly clinging to just enough of that earnest Ohio boy for Kurt to find it endearing. 

But Kurt shakes his head. “No, these colleague-slash-friend-slash-rival dinner parties. They’re all just a passive aggressive excuse to one-up each other. It’s absurd.” He slips his phone from his pocket, double checks the address. “Besides, everyone knows my cooking and hosting skills are far superior anyway.”

Blaine laughs, nudging into Kurt’s side to steer them around a group of boys. Men. Boy-men. Raucous and laughing and draped bodily over and around each other; young and uninhibited, brash and brazen. Then Kurt realizes it’s actually a line, several groups clumped together behind green velvet ropes leading up to a black paint chipped door, one of those places that spends its days being anonymous and unremarkable but springs to life under the cover of darkness. 

“The Cockpit,” Kurt reads out loud, infusing as much disdain as possible into his tone. “Not even bothering with subtlety then.”

“Go big or go home?” Blaine asks, then grimaces.

“I’m going to let you think about what you just said.” Kurt drops his hand to the small of Blaine’s back, means to move them away from the door and the ropes, the muffled thump of a bass line and the throng of men. But his feet don’t move from the sidewalk, eyes straying to tight t-shirts and tighter jeans. He flicks his gaze back to Blaine; summer-weight sport coat and tailored pants, one of the thin knit ties Blaine is so fond of lately. 

This isn’t their scene, still. And the boys-who-are-barely-men are really not much younger than they are, though it usually feels that way; feels like decades separate them instead of a scant handful of years.

“Kurt?” Before he has a chance to doubt himself, he’s guiding Blaine to the end of the line, finding them a spot and waiting for Blaine to get with the program. His eyebrows raise and he watches closely as Kurt undoes more buttons to bare the base of his throat, then he drops his head to chuckle softly.

They’re let in with a cursory glance from the bouncer and a click and unclick of the velvet rope with mechanical boredom. It’s even hotter inside, dark and dank and filled to the brim with undulating bodies and flashing lights.

“Drink?” Blaine shouts over the deafening techno beat and gestures to the bar stretched along the side of the club.

Kurt mouths yes, then pushes through the crowd to find an empty table as Blaine disappears in the other direction, but instead is jostled and shoved unsteadily to the dance floor. All around him hips sway and thrust, arms lifted and grabbing and groping, moving together or alone to the beat. Kurt’s lungs tighten with too little air and too much heat and not enough space; his pulse skitters and his neck slicks with sweat. 

He feels eyes land on him, watching him, it twists in his stomach and suddenly he just wants to find Blaine and go to a stuffy, pretentious dinner party with not enough food artfully arranged on over-priced plates.

A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps.

“Hey, lost you for a minute there.” 

Blaine. Blaine with a drink in either hand, a smile on his face. He’s ditched the coat, linen shirt clinging to his torso with sweat, his hair starting to frizz. Blaine waves cheerily to a large, bald man making his way over with the rhythm of the music like a hyena circling its prey, and Kurt throws his arms over Blaine’s shoulders and turns them away. 

“God, I love you.”

Blaine leans over to set the drinks down, then scrunches his face and purses his lips and Kurt laughs, the sound of it carried away at the crescendoing start of a new song. He kisses Blaine’s mouth and pulls him in close.

“May I have this dance?” Blaine asks, settling his palms on Kurt’s waist.

“Yes. Yes you may.”

They start off slow, easy. Back and forth to the beat, chests touching but nothing else. Kurt opens his eyes, cinches his arms tighter and says, “We’re being watched.”

“Of course we are.” Blaine’s hands spread wide and low on his back, heat and more heat. “Have you seen yourself?” Kurt just scoffs and shakes his head against Blaine’s. 

Sometimes too many years of being noticed for the wrong reason flares up unbidden and unwanted. Kurt dresses impeccably, he holds himself tall and proud; he wants to be seen. But he doesn’t want to be looked at. Not like that.

Blaine presses his temple to Kurt’s, a heady swirl of sweet and earthy scented and damp and hot, murmurs low in Kurt’s ear, “Let them look.” He rolls his hips into Kurt’s body, half-hard and pressed tight to Kurt’s thigh.

Kurt feels a rush of lust and power, slides his hands down to grip tight to Blaine’s ass. He moves their hips to the music, then kisses him deep and dirty, groaning into Blaine’s mouth. Kurt lifts his head, stretching his neck as Blaine sucks hot and wet and eager down and across, dancing and grinding, watching and being watched; beautiful men all around them. But Kurt only wants one of them.

“Take me home, Blaine.”

He’s always found making out in a cab to be crude and distinctly lacking in class, and truth be told, he still does. If only Blaine wasn’t making those soft, high noises and inching his fingers up and up Kurt’s leg. If only he wasn’t so disarmingly sweet and gorgeous, Kurt would stop. He would. But instead they spend the cab ride tangled and desperate, Kurt tossing a stack of bills at the driver before chasing after Blaine, tumbling into the elevator breathlessly.

They make it in the door, barely, stumbling over each other; Kurt dizzy and unfocused as he works his key in the lock with Blaine draped all along his back chanting, “Wanna fuck you. Need to fuck you, oh god.”

Blaine kicks the door closed, makes his way down the hall to find lube and shedding clothes as he goes, is back and naked before Kurt can gather enough coherent thought to follow after him. But Blaine turns him to face the back of the couch, gets Kurt’s shirt and pants and shoes off, then bends him over at the waist with a hand between his shoulder blades and says, “Right here. Just like that.”

More slick heat as he opens Kurt, moves his body to the rhythmic thrust of his hand and sways them together; a slow, sinuous dancing to a phantom beat. The pounding of Kurt’s heart is a pulsing thump, thump, thump in his ears and he whines, high and thready, “Please.”

Then Blaine is inside him with a snap of his hips, a harmony of gasps and grunts and stuttering breaths. Kurt plants his hands on the cushions and pushes back as Blaine fucks into him hard, jolting him forward, the top of the couch digging into his ribs and still he cries out, “More.”

Blaine pants with exertion, grips Kurt’s waist and speeds up his thrusts, and it won’t be long now, the tell-tale scrabble of his fingertips along Kurt’s skin, hips canting uncoordinated and out of rhythm.

“Touch me,” Kurt says, and he wonders what those men would think, if they could see this. If they were watching. Then that flash of power burns through him again and he comes hard over Blaine’s fist, then slumps over the back of the couch.

Blaine grips hard to Kurt’s hipbones, buries himself deep again and again, and Kurt feels oversensitive and overwhelmed, full and claimed and wanted. Blaine looks at him like that, Blaine wants him like that. He can own it, take old wounds and find power and confidence there. 

Let them look.

Blaine comes with a final hard thrust in, collapses over Kurt’s back and lazily kisses any part of Kurt’s body he can reach without too much effort. They move apart and settle themselves on the hard floor, sweat and come cooling off on their clammy skin. 

“Still zigging on me, Kurt.” Blaine smoothes Kurt’s hair up, then kisses his head. “Keeping me on my toes, hmm?”

Kurt stretches his limbs, squirms and sighs. “Something like that.”

 

_Good idea or bad idea: It’s surprising sometimes, the way old, buried and mostly forgotten inhibitions or insecurities can hold us back. You already know that trusting your partner is important, but trusting yourself is just as vital. So, yes. Push past those self-imposed boundaries and try new and exiting locations. But whether that means a swingers club, the backseat of a car, or just down the hall in your living room is up to you and your partner. I am personally a new and enthusiastic fan of the dining room table. Just take it from me and make sure it’s very, very sturdy._


	6. Chapter 6

_Tip: Try role-playing some naughty scenarios!_

“Okay. I have…feathers. A few fox tails. Um, some sort of predator and prey scenario?” Kurt digs farther into the box tucked away in the back of the closet; a musty collection of odds and ends from sewing projects and costumes, miscellaneous wardrobe items he couldn’t bear to part with.

“That doesn’t seem like it would end well for the bird,” Blaine calls back over the sound of drawers scraping open then closed again.

Kurt tosses the items aside, picks through bedazzled leather and bright scarves, a variety of glasses and hats and oddly shaped fabric scraps, but nothing seems to be inspiring him. 

Blaine ducks his head around the corner and dangles a pair of gray coveralls in Kurt’s direction. “I could be a mechanic, remember that one time in your dad’s garage?”

“Of course I do,” Kurt scoffs, how could he forget? He couldn’t step foot in the shop without blushing for weeks. “But we need something new, something we haven’t tried.”

“Right. Um, plumber? I could plunge your-”

“Blaine, no.”

He disappears again with a sigh as Kurt pulls more items from the box then shouts out, “Pirate!”

“Done it!”

The problem is that role-playing isn’t new to them, they’re performers, both of them. And not exactly strangers to slipping into other personas. Blaine even gets paid for it now. Well, sometimes.

“Hey remember when I was in that all-male Off Off Broadway Sister Act revival?” Kurt asks as he starts to make his way out, shoving aside the winter coats stored in the very back; when a certain mostly forgotten about blazer catches his eye.

Blaine doesn’t look up from rummaging in his tie drawer, a pair of purple briefs clutched in one hand. “Yeah, I may never mentally recover after getting a blowjob from a nun.” 

Kurt hums, pulling the coat from the hanger and holding it flat against his torso. He’d thought Blaine had gotten rid of it, or least left it in storage at his parent’s house. They also apparently need to do a massive closet overhaul and reorganization. He shivers a little at the thought. 

Kurt traces the red piping and calls Blaine’s name, not even sure what the particular appeal would be of having Blaine wear his old Dalton blazer. Reliving the good memories of when they first met? Rewriting the bad ones?

“I-oh.” Blaine drops his handful of underwear and bow ties, and why he needed so many and what exactly he had planned Kurt will never know, because Blaine closes the drawer and walks over to pull at a bottom pocket of the blazer. “Naughty school boy, huh?”

Kurt’s pulse picks up speed, he swallows and licks at his bottom lip. “Or…What if I was the naughty one?” Blaine looks up in question, traces lightly over the D emblem held over Kurt’s heart. “And you were just that innocent, earnest private school student.”

Kurt presses the blazer into Blaine’s hands, then sits at the desk chair and crosses one leg over the other, his foot tapping at the air as he waits. When Blaine comes back in it’s with his hair gelled down more than it usually is, nowadays, tugging nervously at the hem of the blazer buttoned over his gingham shirt. 

“Still fits.” Blaine attempts a smile, fidgets uncomfortably.

Kurt extends a hand. “Come here.” 

He pulls Blaine in and situates him so he’s standing between Kurt’s knees, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dress slacks. “Mixed feelings still?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods. “Just forget about all that. It’s just us, okay? Let me show you.”

Kurt lifts Blaine’s left hand out to drop a kiss on the gold band snug around his ring finger, winks and then drops it. “Has anyone ever touched you before, Blaine?”

Blaine’s eyes narrow before he gets it, then he takes a moment to close them and breathe deeply. Kurt recognizes Blaine’s getting into character segue immediately. When he looks at Kurt again he’s dropped his shoulders, turned his face to the side with eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, and mouth slightly parted. 

He looks ten years younger. 

Kurt’s breath catches, and his inborn desire, his desperate need to perform claws its way from his gut. It emboldens him, gives him the strength to pull his heart still beating from his chest again and again; he flushes hot and sits up straighter in his desk chair.

“You’re so beautiful, Blaine. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

Blaine continues to look away, gives an imperceptible shake of his head. “I’ve never-” He drops his head lower, scuffs the toe of a shoe on the floor and says in a quiet, timid voice pitched just a bit higher than usual, “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

Kurt stands and cups Blaine’s chin so he’s looking him in the eye. “Do you want to kiss me, Blaine?”

Blaine’s gaze flits down to Kurt’s lips, then snaps back up again like he’s afraid he’ll be chastised for it and replies, “Uh-huh.”

Kurt leans in, slowly, watching the stunned expression on Blaine’s face until he has to close his eyes, and presses his lips to Blaine’s. He thrills at finding Blaine’s mouth soft and pliant under his; Blaine just takes it, lets Kurt kiss him and nudge his mouth open with his tongue, sucks and nibbles at Blaine’s bottom lip before Blaine sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and fists Kurt’s shirt in his hands to haul him closer.

“Woah there, easy,” Kurt laughs, ducking back to avoid the chase of Blaine’s mouth. He breaks character for a moment to wonder if he should be embarrassed by how hard he already is, pressed up obviously against Blaine’s hip, but he brushes it off and focuses once more. “We should go lay down.”

He follows Blaine to the bed, stretching on his side next him, Blaine flat on his back and clutching the duvet like it’s the only thing keeping him from flying away.

“Relax,” Kurt murmurs, keeping his own hands away for now, but kissing gently on the corner of Blaine’s jaw. “Does that feel good?” He dots a line of kisses from behind Blaine’s ear and down his neck, nosing aside the collar of the blazer to get at more skin.

“Yes,” Blaine breathes.

“Where else do you want me to kiss you, Blaine?”

Blaine’s hips wiggle against the mattress, the outline of his swelling cock visible just under the bottom hem of the blazer. “Everywhere.”

Kurt chuckles, low and dark, and finally reaches out to skim a fingertip from Blaine’s sternum to the button of his pants, tugs but doesn’t open it. “I’d like that. You’d feel so good in my mouth, sweet boy.”

Blaine whimpers and bucks, throws his head back and squeezes his eyes closed. “Kurt I-” His hand darts down to still where Kurt has moved to cup him, gently, so gently, and takes a shaky breath. 

“What is it?” He kisses Blaine’s cheek, the innocence of it a thrilling juxtaposition to the press of Kurt’s hand, the twitch of his own cock. “Don’t be afraid, you can tell me.”

Blaine blinks his eyes open, honey-hazel and doe-eyed innocent. “I want. To see. To see you. If that’s okay?”

Kurt just smiles, then kneels up on the bed to pop open the snaps on his shirt, Blaine’s mouth dropping when Kurt shrugs it off. The clink of Kurt’s belt has Blaine pressing his lips together and swallowing hard, and when he looks up to find Kurt smirking at him, Blaine looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

He finishes undressing, then returns to Blaine’s side, stretching out languorously, smoothing his palms along his bared skin before tucking them behind his head. “You can look now.”

“Oh…” Blaine blinks and blinks, turns to his side and lifts one shaking hand to hover over Kurt’s body like he can’t decide what to touch first or how. “Wow. You’re so hot.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

Blaine responds with an emphatic nod of his head.

Kurt covers Blaine’s hand with his own and brings it down to curl loosely around his cock, then swallows down a moan and moves his hand away. “That’s good. Just like that.”

Blaine’s eyebrows pinch together in concentration, teeth indenting his lip as he starts a slow rhythm.

“Do you like it, Blaine?” He lolls his head to the side, closes his eyes and pinpoints his attention to the slide of Blaine’s fingers up and down his cock; spreading and gasping and arching, putting on a show.

“Yeah.” Blaine says, reverent and rapturous, like Kurt’s dick is the key to the promised land. He snorts to himself, and Blaine’s hand freezes, eyes too big and flashing with hurt.

“No. It’s not you, sweet boy. You’re perfect, keep going.” Blaine releases a gust of breath and doubles his efforts, gripping tighter and jerking faster. Kurt gives a groan in appreciation and encouragement. “What else do you think you’d like?”

“I- I want to taste you. There.”

“Mmm, yeah.” Kurt starts to feel the tension build low in his groin; the irrepressible pull of the tide on the shore. 

Blaine’s voice, soft and hesitant, “And- And- What you’d feel like…inside me.”

“God, Blaine.” Kurt rocks his hips, pushing his cock faster in Blaine’s grip. “You’d feel so good. So tight for me.” Then Blaine thumbs just under the slit, twists his wrist on a stroke up, and it’s technically breaking character; a trick Blaine learned the morning of their wedding. Giddy and hurried, a quickie in the hotel room before getting changed into tuxes. The wave crests and he can’t hold back, streaks hot onto his own stomach and chest with a gasp.

Blaine spreads his fingers through the mess, burying his face in Kurt’s shoulder as he ruts and shudders against Kurt’s side as he comes.

“You’ve corrupted me.” Blaine flops over, strips out of the blazer and then the rest of his clothes, lazily wiping both of them off with his undershirt. 

“Au Contraire, I was merely guiding you in the desires of the flesh.” He turns to look over at Blaine. 

Blaine his husband with his eyes crinkled in years of joy and love, head tipped proud and steady and sure, his thumb stroking easy along the curve of Kurt’s neck; a favorite and well-used spot. “Besides, of the two of us, who has had sexual relations with a member of the clergy?”

“It was your idea!” Blaine squawks, pushing at Kurt’s shoulder and laughing. “Although…what about playing priest and nun?”

Kurt wrinkles his nose and tucks their bodies together; interlocking parts, puzzle pieces. “Ew, pass. Hmm, football player and cheerleader?”

Kurt is pleased to find that he knows all too well exactly what the responding giddy look on Blaine’s face means.

_Good idea or bad idea: Confession time. This is actually a favorite of ours, both of us being performers by nature and even profession. Role-play has the potential for a lot of fun and for exploring fantasies in a safe way. I do encourage anyone who’s curious to give it a try. Just keep in mind that it will require you to let go of any self-consciousness and just go for it, despite the potential for embarrassment or missteps. But then again, the same can be said for love itself, can’t it?_


	7. Chapter 7

_Tip: Try watching sexy movies together to get in the mood! Or make your own!_

“So, what they’re college roommates and they just up and decide to do each other? Seems kind of implausible.” Kurt pauses the video and exits back to the main menu, ignoring Blaine’s protests. The blond didn’t even look like he was really into it.

“It’s porn, Kurt. Not a documentary.”

“I’m just saying, give me a little backstory. Make me care about the characters. It’s like storytelling 101. They just randomly start having sex, what is the point?” He scans the descriptions on the thumbnails of other videos, making emphatic noises of disdain and annoyance, and really the summaries leave a lot to be desired as well.

“The sex is the point.” Blaine says. Snaps, really. They’ve been at this for a while. It had been fun, at first, tucked in together and giddy at the thought of getting worked up to the point that they couldn’t take it anymore, had to rip off each other’s clothes and just go crazy. 

But Blaine has moved to the corner of the couch, legs crossed underneath him and an elbow set on his knee, cheek squashed against his fist, sighing. There’s been a lot of sighing.

Kurt throws his hands up. “I just want something that entrances me, a little romance. Is that so wrong?”

The clouds clear from Blaine’s face, he smiles softly and reaches to pet at Kurt’s back. “Of course not.” Blaine leans in over his lap, chest pressing against Kurt’s shoulder; he’s warm and smells like soap and the new cologne Kurt got him for his birthday. Kurt is ready to call the whole thing off, it’s not like he needs porn to get excited about sex with Blaine. He traces the shell of Blaine’s ear, wonders if he’d be up for using the restraints again.

“Okay here,” Blaine says, breaking Kurt from his thoughts as he starts a new video. “Long lost lovers are reunited,” he reads. Kurt scoots in and settles the laptop between them.

“I guess that sounds promising- Oh dear god.” He slams the laptop shut, turns to look at Blaine with alarm. 

Blaine lifts the screen gingerly, one eye squinted closed like it’s going to shoot out poison or contains some kind of bomb, says, ah-hah. “Monster cock, missed that part,” Blaine says mildly, the corners of his mouth twitching with the effort of holding back laughter. 

Kurt covers his face and flops over into his lap, Blaine’s hand immediately coming up to stroke through Kurt’s hair. “Monster, indeed. That was more like a horror movie.”

“Horror porn,” Blaine muses, “I bet that’s a thing.”

Kurt closes his eyes and hums at the pleasant tingle of Blaine’s fingers against his scalp. “There should be categories of porn. Victorian Romance Porn, Action-Adventure Porn, Romantic Comedy Porn, Noir Porn.”

“Musical Porn,” Blaine pipes up. 

Kurt smiles up at him, “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Blaine hunches over to peck his lips, moves his hand to rub circles low on Kurt’s belly instead and says, “That the only reason?”

Kurt arches his back a bit at the slide of Blaine’s hand across his hips, then untucking Kurt’s shirt and gliding up to his chest, thumb rubbing across a nipple. This is what he wants to see: Two people who love each other, who clearly want and delight in the other’s pleasure. Why is that so difficult?

“That’s it!” Kurt cries, bolting upright and grazing Blaine’s chin with the top of his head. 

“What’s it?” Blaine frowns and works his jaw with a wince.

“The porn.” Kurt replies with a flail of his hands. Blaine lifts his eyebrows, dubious. “We could make our own.” He’s up off the couch and opening the drawer of a side table before Blaine can reply, pulling out the little video camera and wiggling it happily in his hand. 

“Wait, seriously?”

“Sure. That way we can see exactly what we want. And no surprise tree-trunk sized penises.”

“Tree-trunk sized…” Blaine mutters, looking vaguely off in the distance before shaking his head and standing up. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Blaine sets the camera up on the top of the low bookshelf in the corner of their bedroom, lips pursed as he sets it just so, facing the bed; close but not too close. Kurt pulls bolts of fabric from the flat bin under the bed, running his fingers along delicate silks, sturdy ginghams and lush velvets, until he pulls out the one he was looking for; a sheer chiffon, fine gold threads winding like curls of smoke throughout.

He stands on the bed, wobbling a bit until Blaine comes to bracket his legs and hold him steady, tacks it up on the wall over the headboard. “Can you see the top?”

Blaine darts away to look into the camera. “Nope.” 

“Excellent. Just a touch of whimsy for the ambiance.” Kurt hops down, then rubs at his arm, nibbles his lips. “So…”

Blaine presses a button on the camera, the tinny beep in the too quiet room like a gunshot at the start of a race and Kurt’s pulse gives an unpleasant jump. A red light blinks, a silent, judging eye and neither he nor Blaine seem to be able to look away from it. He’s starting to feel a new compassion for porn stars. 

“This is really awkward,” Kurt finally blurts, breaking the terse silence. Blaine gives a grateful huff of laughter, then moves closer, sinking down to the bed and patting the space next to him.

Kurt sits and Blaine immediately leans in, mouth sliding soft against Kurt’s, then pulls away just enough to say, “Forget about our audience,” he nods to the camera, captures Kurt’s lips again. “Just focus on us. If it feels good, it’ll look good, right?”

Kurt nods, pulls Blaine closer then shifts them down across the bed, and he knows, should anyone ever watch this video- god forbid- they could see, just like he can see, how badly they want each other. How amazing they are together. How Blaine moves him. He can’t wait to see what it looks like from the outside.

After, Blaine changes the sheets and Kurt takes down the drape, then they settle under the blankets not bothering with clothes. Loose-limbed and and orgasm goofy, Blaine’s head rests on his shoulder as they wait for the video to download. Kurt hides it in a folder within a folder under the name Blaine’s accessories>spreadsheet>hats.

“I do not have that many hats.” Blaine protests, and Kurt just lifts an eyebrow, presses play.

The kissing is lovely, at first. They look good kissing, lips and hands and tongues coordinating in a sort of well-rehearsed dance. It felt really good, too. Their bodies press closer and closer, by increments. Clothes shed, Blaine’s tawny skin a beautiful contrast to Kurt’s fair complexion. And still kissing. 

Kurt’s mind starts to wander; the drape is off-center, drooping on one side. He wishes they’d changed the bedspread, the brown stripes clash with the gold stitching of the chiffon. 

Then he snaps back to attention, feels a flush of guilt that, once again, he isn’t really enjoying himself as much as he should be. Until Blaine says, wonderingly, “Do you think I should shave the backs of my thighs?”

“I-what?” Kurt says.

“I just didn’t realize they were so hairy!”

“Blaine your legs are a perfectly acceptable level of hairiness.” Kurt just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. Blaine is being absurd.

“If you say so…You are the one who has to look at them, I suppose.” But he looks unconvinced, rubbing at his legs underneath the blanket. 

Kurt does roll his eyes then, taking a moment to blink at the ceiling before deciding to skip the video ahead; enough with the kissing already. But on the screen he’s reaching out to the nightstand, pulling lube out of the drawer; slicking first his fingers, then Blaine’s.

He watches as Blaine flips to his back, bends his legs and plants his feet, Blaine’s hand circling around Kurt’s cock as Kurt pushes a finger inside him. It’s- hot. Actually. Watching his fingers disappear into Blaine, the angle perfect to watch the stretch, the way Blaine’s legs fall open farther, the way he just yields to the movement of Kurt’s hand. Or, it’s hot at first, anyway.

“Dear god, what is that face?”

“What? Oh. That’s your pleasure face.” Blaine replies mildly, and under the blanket his hand moves from his leg to Kurt’s.

“I look like a suffocating trout.” Kurt covers himself on the screen, unable to take watching how he’s flopping around open-mouthed as Blaine’s fist works him over. 

“Are you kidding me? I love that face. You made it when we had that tart at The Chocolate Room last weekend. I almost had to drag you away to the bathrooms and have you right then and there.”

Blaine looks pleased at the memory, cheeks pinking slightly, but Kurt turns and grips Blaine’s shoulders, horrified. “Are you saying I make that face in public?”

“Honey, seriously. I love that face.” He removes Kurt’s hand, folds it into his own and resettles the laptop. “I mean, at least you don’t look like Sasquatch from behind.”

The laugh comes out in a snort and Blaine makes a face at him, Kurt patting his knee and trying (and failing) to reassure him. This whole experiment is starting to feel like a colossal failure; his entire column this week will read: Do not video tape yourselves having sex! Some things cannot be unseen!

But then Blaine on the video has shifted, straddling Kurt’s lap as he sinks down onto Kurt’s cock. And sure, Kurt’s toes are doing this weird wiggling thing, and he’s making that face again, only somehow worse. But, god, Blaine looks amazing like that. 

Back curved in slightly, the muscles pulled tight and quivering, his strong thighs working his ass up and down on Kurt’s cock, and oh. His ass. Kurt’s never had such an unfiltered view like this, mind not clouded by the way Blaine feels, because it never fails to stun him, the tight heat of Blaine. Watching as he fills him, fucks into him. It’s stunning.

“I’m gonna blow you now,” Blaine mutters, Kurt barely hearing him, barely breathing. He sets the computer to the side, tilting it so he can still watch as Blaine’s mouth sinks over the head, sucking lightly, then tonguing over and around.

His cock is enveloped in Blaine mouth, molten hot and clever tongued. And he watches as Blaine in the video takes his cock deep, circles his hips, then lifts up as Kurt pushes off the bed, grips Blaine’s waist then snaps his hips up, jolting Blaine forward with the strength of his thrust.

He can’t keep his head still, trashing back and forth from the visual of Blaine’s head in real time, bobbing and working, and Blaine’s around him then. It’s too much. Too much to take in, too much to process. Then he’s gripping Blaine’s hair tight, watches himself buried inside Blaine, how he cried out in a choked-off sob. 

Blaine swallows him down, and Kurt comes down his throat.

“Holy fuck,” Kurt says, feels like his blood has turned to lead; two orgasms rendering his body heavy and useless. Blaine whines out his agreement, waiting impatiently on all fours between Kurt’s legs, his cock hanging hard and heavy, untouched. 

Kurt manages to force his hand in a sloppy sort of grip, steadies the other on the back of Blaine’s fuzzy thigh and catches his eye with a grin as Blaine groans and thrusts into his fist. 

“Not funny,” he grunts, face scrunched tight. But Kurt just keeps smiling, slips his fingers up higher to press two at the still-slick stretch of Blaine’s hole. Blaine’s mouth gapes open, and he spills across Kurt’s legs, the bed; low on Kurt’s groin.

“We are so hot,” Kurt says smugly, reaching to grab the box of tissues to clean himself off.

Blaine moves to the side, tips his head and smirks in a lopsided sort of way. “Mmhmm, fish face and all.”

_Good idea or bad idea: I am afraid, dear readers, that I am still undecided on this one. Some people find watching pornography works for them, some don’t, and really either one is fine. We have different preferences, different ways of getting turned on, but it certainly can’t hurt to try. (Read the descriptions! Carefully!) As far as making your own, proceed with caution. We did enjoy ourselves while making one, a little less so watching it, but it worked out okay in the end. Just- aim for soft lighting, know your best angles, and edit judiciously. And for the love of Paris Hilton keep it safe and hidden. Unless you want to be famous for all the wrong reasons. (FYI: You don’t.)_


	8. Chapter 8

Tip: Send your partner saucy texts throughout the day!

**8:00 am**

**Kurt: What are you wearing?**

**Blaine: You know what I’m wearing. You’re sitting next to me. You picked this outfit out.**

**Kurt: I acted as a consultant.**

**Blaine: You say consult, I say harangue…**

**Kurt: I feel like we’re doing this wrong.**

**8:30 am**

**Blaine: Come here often?**

**Kurt: To our kitchen? Yeah pretty often.**

**Blaine: I’d like to see you come often.**

**Kurt: Still no.**

**10:00 am**

**Kurt: Ok gonna try sending a naughty pic**

**Blaine: !**

**Blaine: …that is a peach.**

**Kurt: It reminded me of your ass.**

**Blaine: If you say because it’s fuzzy I swear I will go get a full body wax right now.**

**Kurt: No!**

**Kurt: because it’s round**

**Kurt: and succulent**

**Kurt: and I want to bite it.**

**Blaine: Okay maybe we’re starting to get the hang of this.**

**12:30 pm**

**Blaine: What is your favorite body part of mine?**

**Kurt: Is this a trick question?**

**Blaine: I mean. Besides the obvious.**

**Kurt: Your eyes.**

**Kurt: Especially the way they look when you’re sucking me off.**

**12:40 pm**

**Kurt: Too much?**

**Blaine: No. Just**

**Blaine: Maybe a little much when I’m waiting in line at the deli.**

**Blaine: We should probably find a new deli.**

**3:00 pm**

**Kurt: Blaine!**

**Blaine: What? I’m sexting. Time to up the ante.**

**Kurt: Ok but maybe warn a guy before you send pictures of your junk.**

**Kurt: The subway is crowded.**

**Kurt: i think the elderly woman next to me saw.**

**Blaine: Oh. Crap.**

**Kurt: Well at least she looks happy about it?**

**Blaine: I’m not so sure that makes me feel better.**

**Kurt: And…she gave me a thumb’s up.**

**Blaine: Threesome?**

**Kurt: Sexting is the worst idea I’ve ever had.**

**4:00 pm**

**Blaine: How is your meeting going?**

**Kurt: Dreadful. You would think no one could talk about Paisley prints for an entire hour but you would be wrong.**

**Blaine: Well…I’m scrubbing the grout in the bathroom.**

**Blaine: On my hands and knees.**

**Blaine: And it’s really hot so I’m just wearing those running shorts.**

**Blaine: You know the ones.**

**Kurt: God you make scrubbing grout sound sexy.**

**Blaine: When is scrubbing grout *not* sexy?**

The ride home had been near torture, crowded and hot and sticky, why was everything so sticky, and that was without factoring in the sexual frustration. Blaine all sweaty in those tiny shorts. Blaine waiting for him, teasing him. He’d had to keep pressing his rapidly warming bottle of water to his neck and temples in an effort to stave off the hot throb of want simmering on his skin.

“Blaine?” He closes the door, immediately losing his tie and vest and dress shirt, listens for Blaine’s response over the whoosh of the huge box fan set up in the living room and the cacophony of noise outside from the open windows.

He follows the sound Blaine’s voice, the enthusiastic last few verses of Maybe I’m Amazed ringing out from the bathroom.

“In a Wings mood, eh?”

“Hey! You’re back!” Blaine grins at him through the fogged up mirror, towel cinched low around his waist. He fixes his hair, scrubs on deodorant and moisturizer, then crosses the bathroom to smack a kiss to Kurt’s cheek. “I tried to stay in my short shorts for you, but I got kind of gross.”

“It’s okay.” Kurt slips a finger under the towel. “I’m gonna shower too, actually. Wait for me?”

Blaine waggles his eyebrows, then leaves Kurt to wash the sweat and grime from his skin, his irritation from the meeting and the commute through the city on a busy Saturday drifting away under the cool stream of water. 

Blaine’s show starts next week and soon they won’t have entire weekends to fill with each other. He’d really been looking forward to this last one together, but work is picking up again and his column is coming to a close. He cleans himself quickly, a literal cold shower. 

Though he does have to admit that the sexting was fun. Not that it worked entirely as it was supposed to: titillating each other all day long, though it sort of did. But having that connection throughout the day, something more than pick up a gallon of milk or what the hell is the wifi password again?

He pulls on just a light cotton shirt and soft linen shorts and pads barefoot out to the living room, the rapidly circulating air raising goosebumps on his cooled skin. He stops just at the end of the hallway and braces a hand on the wall.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“What? You told me to wait. Besides, it’s too hot for clothes.” Blaine stretches his arms above his head in a very deliberate move, his wet towel cast to the floor, and Kurt can’t even find it in him to fuss about mildew, too busy with thoughts of running his tongue over every inch of Blaine’s naked body splayed out on the couch.

But instead he just moves closer, stands at the end of the couch and looks, feels Blaine watch him as he licks his lips, considers. He smiles to see Blaine’s cock twitch with interest against his stomach, start to lengthen and fill.

“You look like you’re about to eat me alive.”

Kurt drops to his knees, lifts one of Blaine’s legs over his shoulder so he can shift him around and settle between his thighs. “Mmm, I just might.”

He traces his fingertips along the soft skin of hip and thigh, the crease along his groin. Cups him gently and rolls the gentle weight of Blaine’s balls in his hand. 

It’s not just today, with the texts and pictures. The whole sex column assignment has made him realize how easy it is for them to slip back to that place where he takes Blaine for granted, and Blaine forgets just how much Kurt needs him.

Kurt grips the base of Blaine’s cock, licks up the shaft, then lets it harden fully against his tongue, a hum of a moan rumbling from Blaine’s chest. He takes his time. Not teasing. Savoring. 

And though he still thinks he’s just about the last person who should ever be writing a sex column- he sometimes blushes and stammers and hesitates, still feels uneasy giving voice to his desires- he’s really glad he was forced into doing it. Forced into remembering what he and Blaine are, what they can give to each other. 

“I love you so much. You know that right?” Kurt circles his fingers around the hardened length, flicks his wrist in a steady stroke.

“Mmhmm,” Blaine’s ass wriggles against the couch as he drags his eyes open to beam down at Kurt and flash a wide grin.

“You are saying that to me and not my dick, right?”

“Shut up.” Kurt laughs and cranes up, speeds up the push and pull of his fist, presses an open-mouthed kiss in the center of Blaine’s chest.

“I’m just saying. It did get a pretty rave review on the subway.” 

Kurt pulls his hand away and drops down, to a grunt of protest from Blaine. Then he sinks his mouth down tight over Blaine’s cock without warning, Blaine swearing and bucking up off the cushion.

“God, your mouth.”

Kurt pulls off, grins, then sinks down again, can tell by the quake of Blaine’s muscles, the constant low whine, that he’s getting close.

“So all this-ah. New stuff, mmmm. Has been great, but-”

Kurt pulls off with a pop, pumps his fist over the spit-slick heat. “But…” Maybe he’s wrong, Maybe Blaine was perfectly happy with the way things were.

“Can we reinstate blowjob Tuesdays? It was my favorite day of the week.”

“Okay…”

“And in return,” Blaine gasps, throws his head back and grips the back of the couch. “I promise to always, always…” A groan, and Kurt licks at the swollen head, salty bitter moisture pooling in the slit. “Text you pictures of my junk.”

Kurt has just enough time to cinch his lips tight around him, come splashing across his tongue, down his throat. He swallows and wipes his mouth off, rests his cheek on Blaine’s knee, Blaine petting at his still-damp hair as he comes back down.

“Deal.”

_Good idea or bad idea: Good idea. In fact, take as many opportunities to tell your partner how much you want them. How you can’t stop thinking about them. And if you’ve been together for a while and assume that they already know, you especially should. This whole column has been about connecting, opening yourself up and finding ways to spice up the mundane. But don’t forget why you were in that rut in the first place: Because sharing your life with someone means sharing everything. The good, the bad. The thrilling and the monotonous. Some days will mean paying bills and picking up prescriptions. Some days will mean handcuffs and blindfolds and riding crops. (Wait, did we not get to that one? Just use your imagination.) But the sum total of all of that is a relationship. And if you don’t find it with whipped cream or morning sex or bondage, or in exhibitionism or voyeurism or the somewhat crass and juvenile sexting, then keep looking. Find your own spice. Find joy. For Allure magazine, I’m Kurt Hummel encouraging you to be safe, be sensible, but most of all: have fun._


End file.
